


Christmas Chef Charming

by hellomrschorusgirl



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Christmas Dinner, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Christmas Presents, F/M, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 19:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17229632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellomrschorusgirl/pseuds/hellomrschorusgirl
Summary: This year, Christmas is cancelled. You're looking forward to helping out at the soup kitchen instead, but an unexpected gift arrives on the day before Christmas, from your so-called Secret Santa. This gift is actually an invitation to a Christmas dinner, but you don't feel like going. Or maybe someone can still change your mind?





	Christmas Chef Charming

Much against your will, your sister took you tree hunting even though you told her you’re not celebrating Christmas this year. You knew she was just trying to cheer you up but it wasn’t working and soon she’s just leave you to your own thoughts as you were wandering through all the different trees. You and Bucky always used to get a Douglas fern but they don’t have those anymore it seems, so your sister goes with the first one that she likes and calls it a day.

“I can drop you off at your place if you want me to?,” Sharon suggests kindly, driving through hectic NYC traffic. “Or I can drop you off at Peggy’s?”

Peggy is your other sister but she lives on the Upper East Side while you and Sharon live in Brooklyn. She has a very important ministry job and thus you don’t see her very often, neither of you do, and it would be a huge detour for Sharon to make if you’d accept her offer.

“Nah, it’s fine, Sharon. But thank you,” you turn her down with a soft and appreciative voice. Instead you enjoy yourself by looking outside and watching little snowflakes softly taint the car window. “You can just drop me off at the soup kitchen.”

It’s tradition to help out at the soup kitchen in the days leading up to Christmas Eve. Bucky started this tradition when he learnt that many veterans who served in the military have lost their homes and so have nowhere to go over the holidays except for the streets that can be cold and dangerous. Bucky served as a sergeant in the military and after his discharge he dedicated all his free time to helping out at the soup kitchen with you.

Sharon nods and does as you ask, but makes you promise to call her so she can pick you up again when you’ve finished your shift. “I don’t want you strolling around all by yourself when it’s slippery, Y/N.” With a half-smile you tell her you will, though you both know you won’t and just walk the three blocks back home in the snow, clearing your head after a busy day.

Pushing open the door of the soup kitchen, you are welcomed by a couple friendly faces of regulars that have been helping out here since the day the soup kitchen opened. There’s Sam Wilson, also a former soldier, who stumbled in one day when he was broke and hungry. Now he’s earning a living as a proud owner of the tool shop just a five minute walk from the soup kitchen.

“Hiya, Y/N,” he greets you with a big and toothy grin, always happy to see you. “Did you already hear the news? We have a new chef!”

With Christmas right around the corner, you were praying for a Christmas miracle after the chef suddenly quit. He told you it just wasn’t working out for him anymore, combining his job as a chef at one of New York’s finest restaurants with the soup kitchen. But soon you learnt he found an investor that was willing to invest in his own restaurant. Of course you would’ve been very happy for him if he had just told you the truth. Yet your biggest concern is that you won’t be able to feed anyone.

“Oh! That’s great!,” you reply as you head straight to the back where Sam told you the new chef was preparing the menu. The new chef does stand out and not because he’s so much taller than everyone else. It’s his blond hair that looks like strands of gold are woven into it, the broad shoulders and the smaller waist that are giving his white jacket a hard time.

“Should I tell Sam to see if he can find you one in a bigger size?,” you ask the blond out of the blue, who turns around with his eyebrows knit together in confusion as you haven’t been formerly introduced yet.

“Excuse me?,” he smiles gently, studying your face with interest.

You point at his vest, which already had red stains on it from the tomato soup he’s prepared earlier. “You need a larger size?”

But before you can delve into the matter more, Wanda rushes into the kitchen and joins your side, grabbing your arm and giving the chef an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Steve, this is Y/N. She was one of our very first volunteers and is our self-assigned menu planner.”

Realisation dawns on you when you realise how awkward and stupid your question must’ve sounded to him. You want to face palm yourself but you’re also pretty sure Wanda already got you covered on that front. She introduces the new chef as Steve Rogers and you have a vague feeling you’ve seen him before.

He extends his hand and firmly shakes yours. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. So you’re the one that came up with the Christmas menu, right?”

Giving him a flattered smile, you nod and tell him you tried to compose a menu that would appeal to most visitors of the soup kitchen. “Well, you did a great job. Leaves more time for me to prepare everything just the right way.”

Wanda nudges your side when you’ve been staring at Steve for a good two minutes now without saying another word. Eventually you stammer an “Excuse me, but have we met?” with a blush tinting your cheeks.

Steve shakes his head and says he’ll have to disappoint you. “I’m afraid not. But you might’ve come across my book? It’s got a horrible picture of me at the back.” He laughs and it warms up the entire room, making you feel quite uncomfortable because you have no clue why you’re feeling so light and bubbly all of a sudden.

“Ooooooh,” Wanda exhales deeply, nodding her head repeatedly as she scrolls through her phone for an illustration of the book’s cover. She shows it to you and you recognise it from the small book shop you and Bucky went gift shopping last Christmas. “It’s been a number one bestseller ever since it came out about a year ago! It’s so versatile.”

“Imma leave you two to it,” she adds quickly once she finishes gushing about Steve’s book to you. “I know Y/N needs at least two hours to bake everyone’s favourite Christmas pastries in bulk.”

Once she disappears out of the kitchen, Steve turns to you, his eyes intrigued by what Wanda’s words. You explain that ever year you make a different kind of Christmas roll cake. “Last year it was red velvet and I’m thinking of making a cheesecake version this year.”

“If you need any help, just shout and I’ll be right there. I have such a sweet tooth.” Steve chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

You can feel his gaze on your back as long as you’re prepping and baking. It isn’t until you’ve rolled up the cake that he asks if you’re all good or if you need a hand. “I’m fine, thank you. It’s not the first time I’m making this.”

“That’s right, you’re a pro, Y/N,” Steve compliments you and if you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was flirting with you. “Are you a self-taught baker or…?”

“Yes, I didn’t have any training at all,” you reply coolly but kindly. Dusting off the flour from your hands on your apron, you call it a day and smile sweetly at the blond, excusing yourself. “My sister is picking me up in ten. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“But tomorrow it’s Christmas Eve. Aren’t you spending it at home with your family?,” Steve asks bewildered, concern lacing his voice. You think it’s sweet he’s worried about a woman he’s only just met, but you also think it’s none of his business so you pretend like you didn’t hear him.

Though it wouldn’t be in Steve’s nature if he let you get off the hook so easily. He moves swiftly and opens the door for you like a real gentleman, which also doesn’t give you the opportunity to further avoid his question. So as you’re casting up your eyes to meet Steve’s, you explain to him how you’ve decided not to celebrate Christmas this year due to personal reasons.

“I didn’t mean to pry…,” he stammers shyly, an apology on the tip of his tongue which you don’t give him time to utter, slipping past Steve and rushing out of the soup kitchen, into the fresh snowfall.

The next morning you didn’t feel like having Christmas shoved down your throat, so you made a conscious decision to stay at home until it was time to go back to the soup kitchen, fairly positive you wouldn’t run into Steve, who would probably prefer spending Christmas Eve with his family like he’s suggested yesterday.

About five minutes past ten, the postman rings your bell and says he has an urgent delivery for you. You sign off for the small package and card, thanking him and closing the door. Curiosity gets the better of you as you slide open the card and take a look at the message inside.

“Please join us for a Christmas dinner.

Bring your present.

Hope to see you there.

Your secret Santa”

There’s a time and an address written at the bottom and after you’ve googled it, it turns out it’s not the address of a restaurant but of a house in Lower Manhattan. You don’t really trust this prompt gift or this sudden secret Santa. So you put the gift aside and get ready for the soup kitchen instead.


End file.
